Harbor
by trufflemores
Summary: 3.16. Missing scene: Wally and Barry stay at Joe's place the first night back.


Uncommunicative is the word of the hour.

Or it would be, except the boys have been home for almost four now, and even though it's snaking towards three AM, neither of them are asleep. Joe's eyes ache, but he doesn't comment on it. Until five hours ago, he didn't know if he was even going to get Barry back. Barry's success on his mission to retrieve Wally was dicey at best, and Joe knew – he _knew_ – Barry wouldn't return without his son.

 _You're my son, too,_ he thinks, leaning down to the floor where Barry is seated beside him and clasping Barry's shoulder. He can _feel_ how agitated Barry is underneath the stoic armor, his lightning riling and balling, ready to be thrown at the nearest target. It's echoed by Wally, blank-faced and staring at the wall, watching something Joe can't see. Given how tense he is, Joe knows his vision is far from peaceful.

He flicks on the TV and fishes for a game – soccer, _sure_ – and sinks back into the couch. Without a word, Wally folds into him, and Joe doesn't say anything, clasping an arm around his shoulders. Barry stifles a yawn from the floor at his side and the three of them watch the match replay catatonically.

Four AM arrives. Eyes closed, Joe feels Wally shift against him. He opens them and sees Barry reach up from his seated position and hold onto Wally's wrist. It takes almost six seconds for Wally to untense, but once he does, he goes limp with relief. Joe can't hear the conversation that passes between them in lightning, but he doesn't need to to pick up the message. _I'm here._

Joe reinforces it with a light squeeze of his shoulders and Wally pillows his head on Joe's side and dozes, eyes closed. Seconds later, a warm hand finds Joe's free one on the arm of the couch and Joe squeezes it. Without the barrier of wakefulness, Barry's lightning projects a mixture of pain and relief. He holds onto Joe's hand for as long as he can, and Joe doesn't let go until its strength dissolves and it slides out of his grasp.

Holding onto consciousness, Joe takes a moment to appreciate the quiet. He flicks off the TV and neither of them wakes up. Loathe though he is to interrupt their much-needed rest, he can't stay on the couch all night. He wakes Barry with a hand on his shoulder; he sits farther up and Wally grunts and mirrors him. Barry reaches up to press his fists against his eyes. _C'mon_ , he tells them without saying anything out loud, _let's go._

It only takes thirty seconds to haul Barry off the floor and get him moving. Wally trails him, and Joe flicks off the last of the low-light lamps on his way to the stairs, plunging the room into true darkness. Upstairs, he half-expects them to branch off, but he isn't overwhelmingly surprised when Barry only hesitates a second before resting a palm on Joe's door.

Joe pushes it open, silent invitation, and with a relieved exhale Barry takes it.

With a sigh Joe folds himself onto the bed, feeling rather than seeing the bed dip beside him with someone's weight. He doesn't need to open his eyes to know it's Wally; even his rudimentary sensitivity to the Speed Force allows him to distinguish between them. Wally lies on his back and exhales slowly. The bed sinks a second time as Barry settles on Joe's opposite side, hugging one of Joe's arms like a security blanket.

They don't say a word and Joe aches to capitulate to sleep, but he stays awake just long enough to feel all that restless lightning settle. Even exhausted, he is indescribably grateful that they are _home_. Whatever hell they went through, he is sure, they can work it out. They're tough. They've survived a lot, more than most people should have.

But they're also human, and he can tell they're tired even if sleep doesn't come easily. It'll take a while to heal, he suspects, and just because the wounds are invisible doesn't mean they're not there. They are. Joe respects those scars because he knows how much pain had to be endured to earn them.

 _I won't let anyone take you,_ he promises them, closing his eyes.

 _Not even Speed Force._


End file.
